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slipped out of my wet coat, hanging it on the hook beside the one I’d taken off him last night. The one mother had stitched back up for him.
    I strolled the length of the cabin, passing the neatly-straightened bed and drawn drapes. Through grilled windows, I saw pirates on deck singing as they climbed the masts and loosened the sails.
    My stomach danced, much like it had up in the crow’s nest. “Are you leaving?”
    Folding the letter, Bjorn stood and slunk to my side, peering out onto the deck. “Soon.”
    “What about Serrin? Your brother?”
    “Jack will have to hold tight a while. I’ve received some urgent news. Camps have been liberated in the North, but the freed are trapped with Northern soldiers cornering them. Their only way out is by the mercy of the sea.”
    “You’ll . . . help save them?”
    “As soon as this storm passes.”
    He stepped to his drawers, and then a shirt came flying toward me. I caught it.
    “Put that on. You’re soaked to the bone.”
    “And your crew? What about them?”
    “They have suitable attire and know to change as soon as they are below deck.”
    I set the dry change of clothes on the windowsill, frowning as I fiddled with the buttons on the wet shirt. The storm would pass and then Captain Bjorn would set sail to save prisoners. My obligation to Serrin had been fulfilled. Relief choked a breath from me. Still, the guilt lingered.
    The wet material clung to my skin, and I ripped it off. Then faced him. Supposed to sound hopeful, my words came out raw. “You’re really going?”
    “What bothers you more?” Bjorn pushed off from his dresser and crouched in front of me and balled the soaked shirt in his hand. Then he looked up, brow raised. His breath soaked into my breeches. “That I defy your idea of a pirate? Or that I’m leaving?”
    My breath hitched, and I stepped back, snatching the dry shirt and diving into it. “You accepted Lauretta’s invitation to the ball. Shall I pass on your regrets?”
    “Stay. You only just got here. Be a shame to soak another shirt so soon.”
    “I . . . I . . .” I reached for a carefree grin. “Fine. I can amuse myself with a game or three. However suits you.”
    “Without the rum this time.”
    Nothing to hide behind? “I’ll have to leave in a timely fashion,” I said.
    “No doubt.”
    I swallowed. “I’ll . . . pass on your regrets.”
    “I know a thing or two about storms, and this one won’t blow over by tonight.” He swept his desk clear and grabbed the cards. “As much as you may wish to pass on my regrets, I shall attend the ball.”
    My words broke as I spoke, low, soft. “Why do you want to?”
    He opened my fingers, his touch skating over my palm; goosebumps prickled up my arm, followed by a shiver deep in my belly—
    The deck landed in my hand. “Because Serrin will be there. One last chance to set my brother free before I leave. Deal.”
    * * *
    I stepped on Lauretta’s toes. Again.
    She sucked in a breath, letting it out with a laugh that mingled with the string music and lost itself in the swishing of ball gowns. “You’re not quite here, are you?”
    “Sorry?”
    A curl unwound to frame her face. “Never mind. Who’s the lucky one, then?”
    I frowned, and she prompted me to turn her. “The one you’re looking for, Aaron.”
    A laugh twisted out of me. “Oh no. No one else. I’m here.”
    “Really? I believe you look at my father more than me.”
    “The earl glowers.” Though it was not him I looked at—rather, the surrounding guests. So far, no sign of Serrin.
    Or the pirate captain.
    Gentlemen spun their ladies in unison, and I followed a moment too late.
    At the edge of the dance floor, Mother and Marc exchanged looks.
    “Lights above!” Marc called out. “Shall I save you already, Laurie?”
    Her voice tinkered, adorned with a smile. “The more I suffer now, the better the rest of the evening by comparison.”
    The song came to an end—thankfully—and I bowed.